


Yellow Roses

by MJLightwood



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Day 3, M/M, OlivarryWeek2016, Two Shot, i might continue this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJLightwood/pseuds/MJLightwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a Quidditch game leaves Barry injured, Oliver can't seem to shake the feeling of guilt inside him. Thea presents a simple solution: A get-well-soon card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. CHAPTER ONE

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place about two years after the Battle of Hogwarts, both Barry and Oliver are in their seventh year. Enjoy!

A little bit of rain never stopped Quidditch games, at least that much stayed the same after the war. It was an intense game, Slytherin would score ten points only for Gryffindor to even it out with another ten. 

Oliver Queen had a reputation, but right now, the only one that mattered was that he was Slytherin’s Quidditch captain, a Chaser with the best aim anyone had ever seen, and it definitely showed when he played.

Everything was loud, the audience’s cheering, the thunder and the commentator’s voice all blended together. Oliver had the Quaffle, a Gryffindor chaser close in pursuit behind him. It didn't help that it was Gryffindor’s fastest Chaser, and he certainly lived up to his reputation, because in mere seconds the Gryffindor was beside Oliver, reaching for the Quaffle.

Oliver was so focused on the Gryffindor he almost didn't notice the bludger headed towards him, he swerved sharply downwards, barely dodging it in time. Unfortunately, since Oliver was out of the way, the Bludger smashed into the Gryffindor’s shoulder and knocked him off his broom, sending him plummeting to the ground.

Everything happened at once, Oliver actually felt kind of sorry for Iris West, the commentator. Slytherin’s seeker caught the Snitch, signaling the end of the game, just as the Gryffindor hit the ground unconscious.

Slytherin won, but Oliver felt far from celebrating as he landed his broom on the ground next to the Chaser’s unconscious body. He knew it technically wasn't his fault that the Gryffindor was knocked off his broom, but he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, the Bludger was meant for him after all.

A stretcher was conjured, floating the unconscious body up to the hospital wing. He was pulled away by his teammates to celebrate their victory, it had been a while since Slytherin won a game.

He shot one last look at the unconscious boy before following his teammates to the showers, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that was undoubtedly guilt.

-

When they returned to the Slytherin common room, they were greeted by cheers. Oliver was greeted by his sister, Thea tackling him into a hug that he returned.

“So what does winning the first game of the season feel like?” Thea asked, her smile faltered at the all too fake smile on her brother’s face.

“Good,” Oliver replied as Thea dragged him to sit in front of the fireplace, their usual spot. Some things remained the same after the war, and Oliver clung onto them. Many Slytherins congratulated him, gave him pats on the back, but it didn't feel like winning.

Of course Oliver knew Quidditch was a rough game and people got hurt all the time, and he was completely fine with it. But it didn't mean he had to like it when people got hurt _because of him._

Thea sat cross legged in front of the fireplace, Oliver plopping down beside her, enjoying the warmth the flames provided after what felt like hours in the cold rain.

Thea decided to bite the bullet, after all, it wasn't healthy for her brother to brood and sulk all the time, especially after he won a game. “What's wrong, Ollie?” She asked.

“Nothing,” he answered.

Thea dug deeper, replaying the events from the game in her head until it hit her. “It's the Gryffindor boy isn't it? The one that got injured?” She knew her brother well enough, enough to know that he probably blamed himself for the Gryffindor boy getting injured. 

The war may have left its remaining survivors broken, but it left her brother utterly destroyed.

Oliver stayed silent. “If you feel so guilty, Ollie, just leave him a get well soon card,” Thea said. Oliver glared at his sister. “What?” Thea said innocently.

“I don't feel guilty,” Oliver protested, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“Ah yes, there it is, the in denial voice,” Thea said. Oliver rolled his eyes. “Come on, just send him a get well soon card.” Oliver stayed silent, there was no arguing with his sister, the silent treatment was his last resort.

The silence between them was satisfying, the only sounds were the students around them in the common room and the fire crackling in front of them, Oliver almost thought he won the argument and that Thea would leave him alone now.

“I dare you,” Thea said with a smirk. Oh well, no such luck. 

“What are we now? Gryffindors?” Oliver retorted.

“Oh come on, Ollie, one card won't hurt,” Thea said playfully. Oliver rolled his eyes before standing up, leaving his very warm spot in front of the fireplace to go to his room. “You'll feel better!” His sister called out behind him.

Fine, one card. And if Thea was right and it did make him feel better, he had nothing to lose. His sister was right most of the time after all, as much as he would hate to admit it. Always making remarks about his behavior like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And to her it probably was, she was his sister after all, seeing past her brother’s facades was her forte.  

He walked back to his dormitory, relieved to find it empty except for his owl perched on the window. He sat down on his bed and got to work, he really couldn't say no to Thea’s challenges, a stupid habit he had since childhood that never really worked out in his favor. He also couldn't help but bring Thea’s challenges to the next level, a simple note was too easy, a little transfiguration magic changes everything, literally.

A few tries later, one of which included a small bird that caused a bit of chaos with his owl, Oliver picked up the yellow rose on his bed, watching it turn into a piece of parchment in his hand. He quickly picked up his quill and wrote a few simple words on the parchment.

_I’m sorry. Get well soon._

He contemplated signing his name, eventually putting down ‘Oliver Queen’ in his messy scrawl. He gave the parchment to his owl, watching it turn back into a yellow rose in his owl’s talons before sending it on its way.

He wondered if he should've addressed the Gryffindor boy by name on his note, it wasn't like he didn't know it. Barry Allen, Gryffindor’s fastest chaser. He didn't particularly stand out to Oliver until the war two years ago.

Oliver pushed the memory to the back of his head, as he did with most memories of the war, memories that were still vivid even though it was two years ago. Screams and smoke and destruction, he was fifteen, he wasn't supposed to be there, he was supposed to be evacuated, safe.

But really, no one was left unscarred. Everyone lost someone, Oliver and Thea lost their father. And if anyone wondered why Oliver didn't like it when people got hurt because of him, it was because his father’s death was his fault.

  
So he did what he could, push the memories away. Push, try to forget, keep a smile on his face, move on.


	2. Chapter Two

Barry tried opening his eyes, only to be greeted by a blinding light. He clamped them shut again, still seeing red behind his eyelids. Then he heard a voice, “Barry! You're up!”, Iris, probably sitting by his bedside. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the warm lighting.

When he opened his eyes again, Iris and Madam Pomfrey came into focus above him. “How are you feeling, Mr Allen?” Madam Pomfrey asked, her voice strict but caring, as it was with all her patients.

Barry groaned in response. “Well that won't do,” Madam Pomfrey said before walking away. Barry could hear the clinking of potion bottles, then the nurse was by his bedside again, holding a tiny potion bottle to his lips. “Drink, you’ll feel better.” Before Barry could protest, the contents of the bottle was tipped into his mouth and he had no choice but to swallow.

It did heaps of good, Barry felt his headache slowly melt away, replaced by memories from the Quidditch game.

That damn bludger, Barry thought grimly.

“Barry?” Iris asked gently. Barry turned to face his best friend, surprised to see his entire Quidditch team behind her. Even more surprised at how they managed to stay quiet this whole time. Gryffindors were not known for being quiet.

“Are you feeling alright?” Eddie asked, stepping forward to stand beside Iris.

“What happened?” Barry asked, his voice groggy.

“Well, you fell off your broom, you've been unconscious for a while,’ Iris explained.

Barry winced at the reminder. He tried moving his shoulder, expecting it to hurt, but other than a little numbness it didn't hurt at all. Magic continued to surprise him after all these years. “That much I know, what about the game?” He directed his attention to his team, and their sad expression told him all he needed to know.

“We lost,” Eddie started. “But that's not important right now, do you think you can sit up?” He added quickly, probably to soften the blow. Barry sighed, you win some games and you lose some games.

At that exact moment, an owl burst through the hospital window, causing quite the commotion as his teammates broke the silence they’d been holding for a while now. Barry winced at the noise, but he felt a sense of belonging in his chest, these were the Gryffindors he knew, loud and warm, and quite honestly, a little annoying if he didn’t have seven years to get used to them.

The owl ignored his teammates, heading straight for the bedside table beside Barry, dropping a single yellow rose on it before flying back out of the window it’d come from.

“It’s barely been a day and the gifts are flowing in,” Iris said with a smile.

Ronnie was just about to make a remark before Madam Pomfrey stepped in. “My goodness, have you lot never seen an owl before?” Barry was honestly surprised that she didn’t interfere sooner. “Now I’m sure Mr Allen would like his well-needed rest, so if you all would kindly leave him with me.”

His teammates shuffled out, quieter than they were before, each of them shooting him a smile before leaving. “I think you might just have a secret admirer, Barry,” Iris commented before following Eddie out of the room, ignoring the irritated "Iris!" from Barry.

The doors closed, leaving Barry with Madam Pomfrey. “Call if you need anything, Mr Allen,” she said, her voice gentler than it was before with all the noisy Gryffindors in the room. Barry nodded thankfully as the nurse hurried off to tend to her other patients.

Barry turned, finding no difficulty in doing so and reached for the yellow rose on the bedside table. The moment his fingers touched it, it turned into a card. A warm smile graced Barry’s face at the little magic that had just unfolded before him. Seven years, and the littlest things would always continue to amaze him.

The contents of the card were simple. Barry’s eyes skimmed them in a second.

_I’m sorry. Get well soon._

_-Oliver Queen_

“Oliver Queen,” Barry echoed softly. He tried to ignore the little flutter in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach but failed miserably. By all means, he should’ve been angry at this guy but he just couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

He knew who Oliver Queen was, bloody hell, nearly everyone did. Oliver Queen had quite the reputation, rich, playboy, Quidditch captain, but the Oliver Queen in Barry’s mind was the determined fifth year who pushed past all the other students, charging back into the war they were supposed to be safely evacuated from.

He shook himself out of that memory, it wasn’t a pleasant one, memories of the war often weren’t.

Instead he focused on the card in front of him and slowly replayed the game in his head. Oliver, as a Quidditch captain, was one of the best players on the field, even Barry’s speed could barely keep up with his tactics.

It wasn’t really Oliver’s fault that Barry got hit with a Bludger, accidents happened, Quidditch put students in the infirmary very often (Much to Madam Pomfrey’s dismay), but it touched Barry that he would bother to apologize. He put the note back on the table, watching as it turned back into a yellow rose.

Barry tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in his heart as he turned around and tried to get some rest.

He didn’t notice the tips of the rose petals slowly turning the slightest hint of red. 

-

“Whose grand idea was it to put Gryffindor and Slytherin in the same potions class?” Iris muttered as they walked into potions. From the grim faces of both the Gryffindors and Slytherins that were already in the classroom, Barry could tell that they shared the same opinion as Iris.

Barry’s eyes scanned the many faces of the classroom, very obviously searching for one, Oliver Queen. It had been a few days since the Quidditch incident, Barry kept the rose by his bedside table in his dormitory, noting that it didn't seem to wither. He found Oliver at one of the tables at the back of the classroom, blue eyes seemingly bored as they drifted across the words on his potions textbook. Barry let his eyes linger for a second more before he was pulled back to reality by Iris.

He took a seat on what seemed to be the Gryffindor side of the classroom just as Professor Slughorn walked in. The noise died down a little as the Professor began his lesson. Nothing he said really caught Barry’s attention until he announced that he would pair up one Slytherin and one Gryffindor to brew a potion.

It was greeted with quite the uproar from both sides of the classroom, which caused the Professor to interfere. “Since we won’t be cooperating, I’ll be pairing off the students myself.”

The loud shouts of protests died down to whispered strings of annoyance. The Professor conjured up a list and started reading from it, the students begrudgingly accepted their fate.

“Ronnie Raymond and Caitlin Snow,” the professor started, his voice loud enough to fill the classroom thanks to an amplifying charm. Barry watched as his friends slowly crossed over to meet their partners, his heart pounding in his chest much like the other students whose names were left uncalled.

He surveyed the students still left in their original seats, he caught sight of Oliver Queen’s blue eyes and bashfully looked away.

“Barry Allen,” the Professor called, Barry stilled in his seat, awaiting his moment of truth. He stole a glance over at a certain Queen before scolding himself. There was no way in hell that he’d be paired up with Oliver Queen.

But then again, he didn’t think that Oliver would sent him a get-well-soon card, that transfigured into a rose.

“-and Oliver Queen.”

Oh.

Barry felt like he was in a dream like trance as he walked over to his partner. “Hi,” Oliver greeted. Barry gave him a shy smile. “So I guess we’re partners now, huh?” Oliver said, offering a hand for Barry to shake.

“Partners,” Barry echoed, liking the feel of the word on his tongue as he shook Oliver’s hand. “Thank you for the card,” he said, trying to ease into the situation. “And the flower,” he added as an afterthought.

Oliver only gave him a smile in return, one that made Barry’s heart clench. _Oh no_ , Barry thought to himself. _Try to focus on other things, Barry_ , he told himself. Like how he was taller than Oliver by just an inch, or the way Oliver’s eyes twinkled when he smiled…

_Dammit, Barry._

Well this was going to be an interesting day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might continue this, I don't really know, it all depends on time. Should I? I really enjoyed writing this, throwback to the good old Hogwarts days.  
> I also spent way too long sorting Oliver and Barry, I get a lot of Hufflepuff vibes from Barry and a lot of Gryffindor vibes from Oliver. Argh, I don't even know anymore, what do you think, guys?


End file.
